Existential Masques

By Steven Furr

Existential Masques is a fictional coming of age story of friendship, love, tragedy, and quests for answers. The narrative delves into mental health, marital problems from a child's perspective, loss of loved ones, and physical and emotional trauma. While fictional, the book's subject matter was inspired by events that the author experienced during adolescence.

 

Set at a small private university in the fall of 1977, the story opens during a nightmare that William, a college freshman, is experiencing. This reoccurring horrific dream ends when his roommate Neil awakens the young man. William has selected psychology as his major, primarily to acquire the knowledge necessary to resolve the haunting questions surrounding his nighttime terrors. He hopes that once the mystery is unraveled, it will lay to rest his nightmares and fears concerning the future.

 

During his first semester at college, William enlists Neil to help him search for answers. Concurrently, he finds himself drawn to a mysterious young woman on campus. William's efforts to befriend this shy, dowdy girl results in a sudden, shocking transformation of her personality and appearance.

He learns that the young woman, Claire, has a superior intellect. The two become friends, and she joins his quest. Their relationship rapidly evolves into a deep romance during the investigation. After learning that Claire has a mystery of her own, William assists in solving the puzzle.

 

However, before the journey concludes, the couple will share a terrifying experience that threatens their relationship and William's initial mission.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Furr
• Release date: Jan 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201027414

Book preview

Chapter 1

Despite feebly mimicking the sparse sources of available light, the wet pavement beneath the young boy’s bare feet was nearly as black as the moonless midnight sky above. As he braved the cool thick air, it wick’d through his pajamas, weighing him down. The rhythmic sound of pounding steps in cut time, pierced the hour’s usual silence, like ghost notes striking a snare drum.

Still, to him, the cadence seemed to echo off the encroaching white edifice in slow motion. If only his pace could match that of the metronome pounding within his chest. Out of breath and time, he lunged forward toward the closed door, only to be denied entry. His fist punched through one of the wooden door’s nine panes of glass, immediately followed by agony and streaks of warm red blood.

Startled awake by the sound of shattering glass, he bolted up in bed, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The vivid images lingered in his mind’s eye, accompanied by the horror that resonated in his soul. That nightmare again, he said within. As his mind began to clear, he continued aloud, But the sound of breaking glass was clearer than usual, and why did it wake me up after the pain and blood?

Sorry dude, Neil said rather sheepishly, Dropped a glass. That same late show again?

William nodded as he attempted to wipe the sleep, and perhaps the nightmare as well, out of his eyes.

Totally bogus. Maybe you need the exorcist. To exorcise you, not for you to watch, that is, Neil remarked, trying to be supportive and cheer up the other boy.

William yawned and replied, Maybe.

Next time I drop something, I’ll try to do it in the forest when no one’s there to hear it, bud.

I’d appreciate that, Confucius.

It was the best retort William could come up with after having an experience in bed that was anything but restful, or enjoyable, for that matter.

"Actually, that reference more closely relates to quantum mechanics, not so much philosophical concepts. However, if such a quote had historically been the work of a philosopher, I could envision it being attributed to Thoreau’s Walden."

It’s too early for this crap Neil. I haven’t even poured a cup of coffee yet. I need that and some tunes to wake me up first.

"Truly, but you’ve got to book it. Psychs in less than forty-five, and your feet haven’t even hit the ground, dude. Your run through the Zone doesn’t count, man."

NEIL!

The room fell silent for several seconds. The boys stared at each other. One saw an exasperated face, and the other observed a serene one.

I’m sorry Neil, I just—,

Yes, William wanted to apologize and to do it his way. He felt the need to come up with the most precise collection of words to tell Neil how much he genuinely appreciated what his friend was trying to do, but they were entirely out of his mind’s reach. William was right when he said, It’s too early for this crap.

If you knew him long enough, you’d realize that it is one of the few logical reasons why William could not find those words he sought. Libraries full of them usually fell out of his mind as effortlessly as rain falls out of the sky, whenever he might choose to let them escape.

Seemingly never unable to say precisely what he wanted to say, Neil spoke.

Exactly, bro! We’re tuned in to the same jams! He punctuated his sentence with an exclamation mark and a big smile that was instantly reverberated.

William’s mood was transformed, and his day was now as bright as that particular morning. The tunes and coffee flowed in that order, and they would actually make it to psychology class early.

Autumn of 1977 was in full vigor. William and Neil strolled across the campus green of Foxmeadow Grove Academy, a small, private university. The teens, just entering their seventeenth year, were freshmen in their ninth week on campus. In addition to educating the typical coed, the university had a program for integrating advanced younger students into undergraduate studies and college life. Full and partial scholarships were awarded to traditional and younger students and were needs based.

The university was situated on rural land with rolling hills still enveloped by dense woodland. A small church had been constructed at the turn of the nineteenth century. Within thirty years, a convent and boarding school for girls were added to its campus. Due to the convent's shrinking and aging membership, accompanied by declining enrollment in the school, the property had been sold and converted into a private university by the late 1960s. Although now a secular institution of higher learning, remnants still remained of its religious past.

The ground floor of the building that formerly served as a convent had been converted into classrooms. Its second story now functioned as a dormitory for males. The building that had been the boarding school provided the same function as it once had. The main difference being the age of the young ladies that now resided on its second floor. The students were separated by sex only in so far as the university's residential quarters are concerned.

Structures on the campus were eclectic, having served different purposes and constructed over a lengthy period. Among the more recent additions to the collection of buildings were a row of tiny two-story houses that were once separate from, but adjacent to the campus on a short winding road. These homes, dating from the 1930s, were acquired when the site became a college. They had since been converted into duplexes that now serve as private living arrangements for some faculty members.

Various materials were used to build the structures, the oldest of which were wood lap construction with stacked stone foundations. The most prominent buildings were of block or brick. Some included wings or other additions that incorporated odd angles in certain instances. The educator residences had the most modern look, having been the subject of recent renovations.

As the two cohabitants and friends sat in the classroom waiting for Professor James to begin, Neil listened to music through his headphones, and William’s synapses began to fire as well as the spark plugs of a cherry Trans Am. He wondered if someday, through Professor James’s efforts, he might learn how Neil was able to improve his mood and do it with so few words.

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, the professor said upon entering the room. As you should recall, we ended our last session going over a list of some psychiatric diagnoses. Refer to the projection here from yesterday to refresh your memory.

Professor James’s list displayed via the slide projector included depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, phobia, and schizophrenia. The sight of the last item—schizophrenia—made William shudder.

The professor continued, Can I see a show of hands if you know someone who is affected by one of these conditions?

Your uncle. Reach for a cloud, dude, said Neil quietly.

William acquiesced and reluctantly raised his hand.

As you look around the room, we see many people impacted by such mental health issues, Professor James noted before telling those assembled, Now let’s examine a summary of a case study for an individual who experienced one of these maladies, schizophrenia.

William suddenly felt lightheaded and queasy. Hold it together. Studying schizophrenia is one of the reasons you took this course, he said to himself.

The professor displayed and read aloud the first of several slides of a case study for a patient he identified using only initials.

J.D. was a nineteen-year-old woman brought to the emergency room by the campus police of a university. A professor had called and reported that J.D. was disrupting the classroom, accused him of making false accusations against her to various members of the faculty, and refused to cease the behavior, he concluded, reading from the first in the series of slides.

J.D. had been an excellent student in previous years. However, she started to exhibit strange behavior over the past eighteen months. The young woman had become withdrawn and no longer seemed concerned with maintaining a proper appearance or personal hygiene, read the second.

J.D. developed a delusion that staff members of the college were conducting secret mind-control experiments involving the students. Furthermore, she claimed that they were trying to ruin her reputation because she was on the verge of exposing the clandestine operation. J.D. would frequently speak quietly while alone in a manner that appeared as if she were having a conversation with someone who was not physically present, the professor recited before moving on.

Family history indicated no use of either alcohol or drugs by J.D., and her drug screening results were negative. J.D.’s grandfather was institutionalized for mental health issues beginning when he was in his mid-thirties and remained confined until his death. However, current family members were unable to offer anything more specific regarding the grandfather’s condition or diagnosis, he quoted from the fourth.

Eventually, J.D. consented to treatment in a psychiatric unit. J.D. was experiencing persecutory delusions, auditory hallucinations, and negative symptoms that had persisted for over a year. The diagnosis of schizophrenia was justified given her specific symptoms, the professor finally concluded at the end of the presentation.

Before proceeding to another case history with a diagnosis of an antisocial personality, are there questions regarding this presentation? Professor James inquired.

William’s hand shot up without hesitation this time.

Yes, William, the professor said, acknowledging the teen.

Isn’t it true that there are no tests that can conclusively indicate a diagnosis of schizophrenia?

Excellent point William. That is indeed true and not only for schizophrenia. Tomorrow, we will discuss a recent study conducted by a Stanford University professor and psychologist, David Rosenhan, concerning the methods and accuracy of psychiatric diagnosis. The diagnosis begins by ruling out other potential causes such as injury, medical illness, and alcohol or drug use. Once eliminated, gathering symptomology and history via interviews with the patient, family, friends, and associates is required. Finally, identifying patterns that fit known indicators of a specific condition is necessary. All of this can be time-consuming, and the information obtained may be inaccurate by accident or design. Furthermore, the mental health professional must be careful not to draw any conclusions that are not based on the data gathered, and to be cognizant of the potential of incorrectly interpreting the information. The final diagnosis literally could result in knowing how to save a life or a mind, the professor concluded.

At this instant, William had an idea that could be educational and a tool to help unravel a mystery that had dogged him since he was only eight years old.

After classes concluded for the day, William and Neil listened to their favorite hard rock station on the radio in their room, and their light discussion took on a more serious tone.

Today’s psych class was the best that I’ve experienced, regardless of the subject, since I’ve been here. What do you think? asked William.

Totally. I was more tuned in to those case studies today than I am when my favorite jam is playing.

You know what I think would be cool? If you and I start a psychology discussion group of our own. We could each choose and investigate a case study, then have a weekly discussion about it, just like the way a book club operates.

Righteous and totally awesome light bulb moment, dude. I’m in.

Great. Now let’s each find and research a case to discuss, then next week, we can have our first meeting.

However, William had already selected his case study. It was the same one he had been investigating during both the waking and sleeping moments of his life ever since he was a young boy. He would put those nightmares to good use and hopefully to rest once and for all. The answer to his most serious question might reveal itself along the way too.

Although it was Saturday, and they would typically venture into town, the two friends found themselves in the campus library. The massive room’s walls had ornate, dark wooden panels that revealed themselves wherever the shelves filled with books did not hide them. There were rows upon rows of shelves, some of which made right-angle turns before permitting the seeker to escape the maze. Neil and William stuck together during their quest for information.

William, I am stoked that you want to help me with this most righteous of adventures, but shouldn’t you be conducting your own search? We might end up with only one head case if you don’t, bro.

Actually, I have been studying an interesting case for a while. I’m quite prepared to present it already.

Wait, we just came up with this radical plan last—,

William blocked Neil’s remark with a book.

Look at this one. I bet it has some good information in it.

It was an intentional diversion. Neil didn’t distract so easily, and with a puzzled look on his face, he examined William’s for clues. Deciding he must have a good reason for the tactic employed, Neil left it alone.

As the two companions rounded a sharp left turn in the present row of bookshelves, Professor James suddenly appeared from around the corner.

It’s good to see you both in here this morning in search of something interesting to investigate. However, after locating the appropriate resources, I would suggest doing your reading outside on such a lovely day as this one. The fresh air and bright sky will help clear any mind, which will be necessary for your challenging quest, said the professor with a grin.

William and Neil looked at each other with astonished expressions. It was evident to them that he knew exactly what was afoot. Perhaps he overheard enough of their whispers in the library to reveal their plans to him. The professor bid the pair good luck then left them to continue their agenda.

They were headed for the exit to the library with books in hand when William suddenly stopped, causing Neil to run into him.

Look over there. It’s the girl I’ve been telling you about, William said as he gestured to a young woman with long brown hair dressed in black.

She was sitting alone with her face buried deep in the pages of a hefty tome.

Oh, the one with the gnarly hair. You like her. Cool.

Hold on. Wait here for a minute, Neil.

William approached the isolated young lady and whispered hello. To this, she raised her head to look at him, then her hand followed afterward. She displayed a slight odd wave by bending her fingers at the hand to flap them up and down several times.

I know it’s not a good time to talk right now, but I’d like to do so the next time we see each other on campus, said William.

The shy young girl nodded as if to say okay before she dropped her eyes to focus on the book once more.

Goodbye. See you later.

She raised only her hand this time and gave him the same unusual wave to say goodbye.

William returned to his friend near the library’s door.

Come on, Neil. Let’s go.

They walked down the hall outside of the library’s quiet environment, where they could freely speak.

I didn’t mean it in a bogus way. You know, gnarly can mean cool too. I think her hair is cool, and so is the fact that you’re into a babe that attempts to hide by trying to stick out, said Neil.

I know you well enough to realize that’s how you meant it. Thanks for not thinking I’m a dork. I don’t know what it is, and I can’t explain it.

"I think I do. You love mysterious things like the stuff on the Zone. Also, you are into intelligent babes. I think we both see there’s definitely more to her."

To this, the boys smiled at each other. They were undoubtedly tuned in to the same jams.

William and Neil exited the building that housed the library and proceeded to their dormitory. Along the way, they encountered many peers, some of whom jokingly referred to the pair as twins. The reason for the moniker? Both teens were frequently seen displaying similar fashions, which currently consisted of unbuttoned flannel shirts, T-shirts depicting popular rock bands, blue jeans, and sneakers. In colder temperatures, they added fleece-lined jean jackets to their ensembles.

At times, William would exchange the flannel for a primary-colored dress shirt, possibly checkered or with stripes, and wear a complimentary shaded plain tee beneath. Neil, on the other hand, would rarely modify his look.

Clothing, however, marked the termination of a shared physical resemblance. Neil was mustached, with long blonde wavy hair, and a six-foot lanky frame. In contrast, William was clean-shaven, had medium-length brown straight hair, and stood a mere five-seven, with a slight but rather muscular body for someone of his stature.

Once settled in their room, the two young men dug into the research materials obtained from the library, and their psychology textbooks as well. After becoming engrossed in the task for hours, they soon found it to be dinnertime. Upon finishing the evening meal, William and Neil spent the remainder of the night relaxing, while rock music emanated from the radio.

Since they had spent most of the previous day together preparing for their first psychology discussion, the young men agreed that they would go into town on this particular Sunday afternoon.

As expected, the village was much calmer than when they would usually grace its streets. There were only individual students or groups of two or three milling around. Each of the eclectic collections of shops had a handful of patrons inside. The young men went into some of the businesses that they usually would visit. The record store had the most customers. The teens stayed there for a considerable time, perusing the selections, talking to their peers, and listening to music.

By late afternoon Neil and William were hungry. They decided to get a pizza to take back to their room on campus. While waiting for the order, the pair sat at a booth in the restaurant adjacent to one of the establishment’s large windows with a clear view of the sidewalk. Suddenly, William jumped to his feet, declared he would be right back, and headed for the exit.

Neil peered out of the window to see what had demanded his friend’s attention.

Ah, it’s the girl. Go for it, dude!

William didn’t want to startle the young lady by calling out for her, so he tried to catch up to the girl before losing sight of her. She rounded a corner, but when William made it there, she had vanished. Undeterred, he decided to look in each store on that block in an attempt to locate her.

After exploring three shops without any luck, he entered the next one. It was a small store that sold used clothing. William approached the older woman working at the cash register of the establishment.

Pardon me, but did you see a young lady with long brown hair enter the store? he inquired.

Oh, you must mean Claire. She’s in the dressing room trying on an outfit, said the woman.

Thank you. I’ll just wait for her outside, he replied before exiting. Claire, I like it, William thought to himself.

Shortly, Claire emerged from the store. William, who had been pacing while deep in thought trying to decide what he would say to her, pivoted back towards the door and bumped right into the girl.

Oh my, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?

She nodded yes.

I saw you and hoped you might have time to talk now. Do you?

She shook her head no, then whispered, Sorry.

Can you tell me when you might have time to talk?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he echoed back to her with a huge smile, then continued, See you tomorrow. Bye.

Claire waved goodbye to William in her unique manner. He turned and began to walk away. When William reached the corner, he spun around to look at the young woman. Claire was still standing in front of the same store looking back at him. He waved to her enthusiastically, and she waved back just as he had done.

Soon, William and Neil were reunited in front of the pizza shop.

I’d have to say that you must have found her, and it was most excellent, said Neil, after taking note of the huge smile on his friend’s face.

It was most excellent indeed, dude. Her name is Claire. Let’s go celebrate with some slices.

Okay, but one more quick stop on the way, man, replied Neil.

With that, the two friends headed in the direction of the campus.

Once they made it back to their room, the pair of friends sat down for dinner.

Tunes, friends, beer, and slices, a totally awesome time, dude! exclaimed Neil. The only thing that would make this better is a couple of righteous babes to share it with, right bro? asked Neil.

William merely nodded in agreement. With a beer in one hand, a slice of pizza in the other, and chewing on a mouthful of ambrosia, it was the only way he could respond to his friend. Being tall and having quite a full mustache, Neil had no trouble buying the beer they were consuming despite his age.

In due time, my bud. I’ll work on the missing pieces for both of us, said Neil.

William found sleep to be elusive that night. He was anxious to start the discussion group recently established with Neil. How would William describe his own experience with schizophrenia and his fears? Should he forget his plan and open up to Neil and perhaps Professor James? William felt guilty about the prospect of deceiving Neil to openly discuss his horrifying experience and the fears they inspired. He was concerned that no matter how he exposed his deep dark secret, it could result in losing a friend.

If that wasn’t enough to keep his mind racing, there was the mysterious girl. William perceived that his thoughts of her were occupying his gray matter more each day. Every brief interaction with Claire made him desire more of them. He was also determined—no, driven—to extend the length of their interactions, but was at a loss for how to make it happen. William realized that the tossing and turning he was doing in bed wasn’t helping put an end to the incessant thoughts. Perhaps a walk around the grounds of the deserted campus would help quiet his mind.

The crisp, clear autumn night was cold. That, combined with the early dew and still air, enabled a heavy frost to form that looked almost like a dusting of snow had coated the ground. The light from a nearly full moon overhead made the icy blanket sparkle and shimmer all around the teen.

As William traversed the grounds, he noticed white puffs emerging from around the corner of a distant building. Curiosity led him to seek out its source. As he approached the structure at an obtuse angle, he was able to peer around its edge. A dark form revealed itself. Although he did his best to maintain the stealth of a wild animal stalking its prey, William realized that he had been spotted. The figure had taken a few steps backward. Calling out a soft hello to the unknown person caused the form to freeze in place.

Finally, the moonlight revealed the features of the person transfixed upon its source. It’s her! William exclaimed to himself. Maybe his efforts to talk to her without other ears around to hear would bear fruit.

He had only recently discovered that her name was Claire. She held her hands close to her chest clasped together, perhaps in a futile effort to warm them. Finally, William was close enough to speak with her.

Hi Claire. Isn’t that your name?

The timid young girl nodded in reply.

My name is William. As you know, I’ve seen you around and have wanted to talk to you. I guess we are both a little shy.

The girl stood there silently as she exhaled, forming miniature clouds that disappeared into the night.

I suppose you can’t sleep either, right? he asked.

She replied in the same manner as before to indicate that William was correct.

I thought I could keep you company. It probably would be a good idea to stick together rather than being out here alone at this hour. Is that okay?

To William’s delight, she squeaked out a yes.

Since it’s after midnight, it is tomorrow. We could chat or just stand here quietly together if you’d prefer.

Quietly, she whispered.

To that, William smiled in reply.

They stood there for about an hour before Claire finally began to walk.

Would you like me to accompany you home?

She replied with a nod.

When they reached the building in which she resided, Claire murmured, Night.

I enjoyed being with you tonight. Good night. William meant it as a parting phrase and as a description of their time together.

The shy young woman disappeared inside.

William’s Journal Entry

Thoughts on Claire

I don’t know much about Claire because she seems beyond shy, but I sense a certain mystique about her. I have tried to engage in conversation with her but can’t seem to get past short exchanges of pleasantries. I did once ask what her major was, and she squeaked lit in reply. I’m reasonably certain that she used the word as a noun and not an adjective.

She keeps her personality under wraps, in much the same way as she does with her form, buried deep under layers of garments. Claire’s intelligence is another matter altogether. I have overheard numerous adjectives from her classmates indicating that this unassuming person’s quotient must easily extend quite far into genius territory. I could bear witness to several of the typical signs of a superior intellect that would constitute additional evidence. What I do know about Claire is intriguing and has led to my admiration. She doesn’t appear to have any friends. However, despite having limited, encouraging results at present, I am committed to increasing whatever that number may be by one at a minimum.

Some might easily dismiss her outright appearance as unremarkable, if not do so in harsher tones. Claire has brown hair that hangs past her shoulders, seemingly fashioned to serve as a makeshift veil to hide behind. On occasion, I can discern a pair of glasses peeking out. This has led me to deduce that they are not a constantly required visual aid. I can’t fathom an apparent alternative explanation of contact lenses being applicable in her case. I haven’t sensed the slightest indicator of vanity in Claire.

I shared one memorable encounter with her while crossing the campus on an otherwise ordinary day. As we were about to pass within the customary distance suitable to swap perfunctory greetings, a sudden gust of wind permitted me a nearly unobstructed view of Claire’s face. Sans glasses or the adornment of any cosmetics, it was more breathtaking than the natural force pushing aside the obstruction. Her wide-eyed emeralds blinded me, momentarily, to the expression of shock and embarrassment radiated by her gaze.

Our mutual reactions were as if I had inadvertently seen her partially disrobed. My behavior was a mirror of what it would be, upon the actual revelation of such a glorious example of God’s creation. A male, teetering upon the sinuous precipice that separates boys from men, in truly biological terms only. Said adolescent boy’s head reacted much the same way the knee joint does upon being introduced to the physician’s rubber mallet. I suddenly jerked my head to look away.

Perplexing it was to me. Yes, the experience in totality, but also the resultant questions that were its outflow. Is Claire hiding her beauty for some reason, and if affirmative, what might it be? Could she be keeping a secret chained up below under lock and key? Is it something as terrifying and hideous as the legendary lycanthrope? Intangible, yet more horror-inducing, twisted, distorted, and grotesque. Might it, without warning, mysteriously manifest itself via an expression that she can’t suppress, causing the young woman to keep the dark, dismal draperies drawn closed for hours all, both before and post-midnight?

Too easy is it that the same precise collection, proportion, and arrangement of the elements can differ so much in appearance when viewed from a slight alteration of angle. Up, down, right, left. Obtuse? Acute? Remarkable! All of His humbled creations below. Upon yet another view, being that of the reflection, I saw the entire experience as an unexpected gift that I unknowingly desired, but would indefinitely treasure.

Claire’s clothing is bohemian and reveals nearly no skin, even on the early fall semester’s hottest days. Aside from small revelations that hint at lighter colors or paisleys, these are covered by numerous nearly universal layers of dark, dreary fabric more accustomed to All Hallows Eve. During inclement weather, she selects one from a minute number of hats that match her apparel to wear for protection against the elements. Black maypops complete her ensemble. Inexplicably, I find the site of her clothed in such fashion mystically alluring.

As for jewelry, insofar as I can tell, she possesses a singular silver necklace. I have frequently seen Claire tightly grasping its apparent pendant in her delicate hands during what may possibly be prayer. Usually, she performs this ritual when sitting alone outdoors on the fringe, or tucked away in some obscure corner at the juncture of a campus building’s exterior walls. Otherwise, she keeps it unseen, safely ensconced beneath layers of clothes.

I have a distinct impression that she has surpassed her freshman year, or perhaps even more. I have yet to encounter any faculty or student unknowing of Claire’s presence. She navigates